Old Loves and New Flames
by Ghost Wrider 117
Summary: Could Baloo and Becky finally be getting together? Or is something still holding someone back? A roller coaster ride of emotion follows, and the outcome is still uncertain. Chapter five rated M for content.
1. Chapter 1

There was one for sure truth in life: Fat people didn't fail cooking. By rule, then Baloo was an excellent cook when he wanted to be. And this morning he wanted to be. Quiche Lorraine with his own special spinach and artichoke cream sauce, hash browns, and sausage links to round it out with. A moment ago the sound of the shower had ceased, giving him a rough warning that Becky would be out in a few minutes. He put two slices of bread in the toaster so he could start them as soon as he heard the bathroom door open. The quiche and hash browns were done and warming in the oven, and the sausage links were almost done. With any luck the timing would come off splendidly. An easy bet if things kept going the way they had been.

What an up and down the last ten hours had been. Despite Becky's being in a noticeably down and out mood the last few weeks, they had shared a pleasant evening last night, listening to the radio, playing cards, and sharing a good bottle of wine. They were up late and he suggested that, given her low tolerance for alcohol, she not drive home when there was a perfectly good guest bed she could use and she agreed. Then she had come to him in the night, lost in melancholy. Seven years they had known each other and she had never once spoke of the man he now knew was named Aiden Malcolm Cunningham.

But she spoke of him at length last night, and the longer she spoke the more despondent she became until finally she seemed spent, and she slept. Quite peacefully it seemed. And then this morning, waking to the delicious feeling of her in his arms, followed by a side of her he never thought he'd see. Intense, passionate, sensual. The both of them climbing to heights of pleasure (at least he thought so, judging by the sounds she was making) he would never have dreamed they would share.

No, he was kidding himself about that. He'd dreamed of it before. Hypothetically, but also quite literally once or twice. And never had he considered it to be any more than a dream. But now he realized how much he had come to desire that type of a relationship with her. It seemed only natural. They worked together, enough that it seemed they lived together. They had raised two children together (almost). They spent the largest majority of their time with each other. This just seemed like the next logical step. And now that they had taken it, he felt happier than he had in quite some time.

The bathroom door opened and Baloo quickly punched the toast down and began setting the small table. A moment later she appeared. Hair still wet, shirttail hanging out, she looked very domestic and absolutely ravishing. His smile came naturally.

"Got breakfast just about ready."

"No thank you, I'm not hungry."

Baloo froze. Her tone of voice and demeanor were not at all what he expected. And she had to be hungry. He knew for a fact that at least thirteen hours had passed since her last meal. Everything was suddenly wrong. She seemed to be in a great hurry. She pulled her hair back and tied it off with a scrunchee and quickly stuffed her shirt down her pants.

"We got something going on this morning you forgot to mention? Wildcat was gonna tune the engines on the Duck."

"No. No, I…I just have to go. I have other things to do."

"Well I thought you might want to talk about-."

"No, Baloo, I don't want to talk about it. I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. It shouldn't have happened. Among other things, I'm your boss and it's just not appropriate."

"Well, yeah you're the boss but I thought our relationship was a little more than th-."

"We don't _have_ a relationship, Baloo. We're co-workers, nothing more. I'm sorry if I led you on. I won't go so far as to call this morning a mistake. But let's just call it two people enjoying each other for a time, move on, and never talk about it again."

She yanked her maroon sweater off the back of the couch and stuffed her arms into it.

"But Becky, I thought-."

"I'm sorry, Baloo. But it never happened. Now I have to go."

"But Rebecca," he pleaded.

"Baloo, that's my last word on it. I'll see you at the office. Goodbye."

The door slammed behind her and all the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room as she left. He collapsed into the nearest chair, stunned. Crushed. Heartbroken. Her words had been vicious, like surgical scalpels, mercilessly excising his emotions like a cancer. Not only were they completely out of character for her, but they were a denial of everything they had ever been to each other, and of everything that he was.

Suddenly he seemed to have awakened in a different world, one much darker than the one he had gone to sleep in.

* * *

Kit approached the door to Baloo's small apartment tentatively. Something was going on between Baloo and Miz Cunningham. They hardly spoke to each other yesterday and the tension in the office had been physically palpable. Enough so that he and Wildcat had both found things that needed to be done away from the office. Even Molly, who normally rode the bus from school to Hire for Hire and did her homework there while waiting on her mother, took only minutes to decide to head home on her own. No surprise, she called him later that night to discuss it with him, but she had no more idea than he did, and their respective parents were both as quiet as the most dedicated of mimes.

Today Baloo had called in sick. But adding to the bizarre, he hadn't called Miz Cunningham. He called Kit to speak to her for him. And although she would never tolerate such a thing, Miz Cunningham had barely raised an eyebrow and spoke nary a word, not then or throughout the day. Whatever it was, it was in everyone's best interest for Kit to find out, and help Baloo work it out, as quickly as possible.

He was standing at the door, working out in his mind the finishing touches of his plan to approach him before knocking when a loud crash arose inside the apartment, followed by cursing and several loud bangs. He quickly pounded on the door, his alarm overwhelming his caution. It was yanked open a few moments later by a very cross-looking Baloo.

"You okay, Papa Bear?"

His expression softened. "Oh, it's you. Yeah, I'm all right."

"Of course it's me. Who'd ya expect?"

His mouth worked silently for a moment. "Someone else."

"Mmm hmm. Mind if I come in?"

"Yeah, sure." He stepped aside and as Kit entered the apartment, he immediately noticed water all over the floor in the dining area and a large pot lying at the end of the short hall. He could imagine what had happened.

"You bowling with stock pots in here?" he asked.

"Just a little accident."

"Little enough that I could hear it down the hall. Baloo, what's going on?"

"I was moving the pot from the sink and dropped it. Temper flared and I kicked the thing down the hall. No big deal."

"That's _not_ what I meant." He folded his arms and gave Baloo his sternest look. Apparently circumstances favored the direct approach.

"Well then what _do_ you mean?"

Kit's only response was to add a raised eyebrow to the stern look.

"What?"

"Baloo, are _you_ that clueless or do you think _I'm_ that clueless?"

"I guess it's me."

"What's going on with you and Miz Cunningham?"

His face darkened like a thunderstorm. "_That_ I'm not going to talk about."

"Well I don't see you've got much of a choice."

"The hell I don't."

"Baloo, whatever happened, if you think no one's noticed you better think again. It's painfully obvious, and I do mean _painfully_. If you don't want to talk to me about it fine, but you need to find someone to talk to and quickly."

"The very last thing on this earth that I want to talk about is that…that…," and he used a word that incorrectly identified her as being a female canine instead of a female ursine. Kit was taken aback. He'd heard Baloo use a number of colorful descriptives when referring to Miz Cunningham, but never that one.

"Baloo, listen to yourself! And you don't think you need to talk?"

"I didn't say that, kid. I may _need_ to talk, but I don't _want_ to talk!" His expression changed from anger to anguish. "Just…just leave it alone!"

Kit put his hand on Baloo's shoulder. "Papa Bear…let me help."

"There's nothing you can do!"

"I can listen."

He held Baloo's gaze for a moment until the older bear couldn't maintain eye contact. He sighed.

"Kit…it just…I…she…" He took a deep breath. "It started like this…"

And he told him the story. Kit's own emotions ran the gamut and he was only peripherally involved. He could only imagine what Baloo was going through. He'd always been the type to cover pain with rage, and as he talked he began pacing around the apartment, cleaning, organizing, and every movement was forceful. Items were jammed into place rather than set into place. Cupboards and doors were slammed, and the longer he talked the more his voice rose until finally he opened the refrigerator, retrieved two lagers from a six pack and slung the door shut hard enough to move the large appliance back a half inch. He opened both, kept one for himself and handed the other to Kit (who wasn't old enough, but Baloo could care less if they were in private).

"And that was it. She left. Just like that."

There was a long silence as they stared at each other, sipping the icy beer, as Kit considered his response.

"Baloo…I don't know what to say. Honestly I'm shocked. I'm glad you two finally got together, frankly I've been expecting it for a couple years now. But her reaction doesn't make any sense, and it's completely out of character. Have you considered there might have been a reason for the way she acted?"

"It don't matter. Nothing can excuse that. She cut me deep, Kit. Real deep."

"I know she did. And no, it doesn't excuse it. But consider that you might cut her a little slack; give her a chance to explain herself. Maybe it was an aberration."

"Kit, right now, that woman doesn't even exist as far as I'm concerned."

"Hard attitude to take with your boss."

"True. Which is why I've about made up my mind to quit."

"You can't!"

"The hell I can't."

"Look, Papa Bear. That's a knee jerk reaction. Do me a favor. Not for her, or Higher for Hire, or even for yourself. For me. Give it a week. Before you do anything rash, say anything you might not be able to take back. Think about things for a week."

Baloo regarded him for a long moment.

"Please, Baloo. Just one week."

Finally, he nodded.

"Thanks, Papa Bear. Tell you what: I'll go talk to Miz Cunningham, without letting on that I know any of the story, and see if I can't convince her to talk to you, explain herself to you."

"Do what you want, Kit. But I don't know that I would speak to her, or even acknowledge her presence."

"And I won't ask you to. But just remember: you promised you'd think about it."

Baloo nodded. Kit turned his bottle up and drained the remainder, then tossed it in the trash can across the room with a spot on jump-hook.

"Gotta run." He extended his hand. Baloo grasped it firmly, then pulled him into a bear hug.

"Thanks, Kit. For everything."

"No problem."

"Love ya, kiddo."

"I love you too, Papa Bear."

Kit broke the embrace. "If you need anything, I'm just a phone call away."

Baloo nodded as Kit pulled the door shut.


	2. Chapter 2

Baloo checked the manifest against the stacks as he made a last pass through the hold of the Sea Duck, ensuring the tie-downs were securely in place. It would be a full day, with four legs. First was a shipment of cocktail peanuts to the royal palace in Macadamia, then fishing gear to the Parks & Rec service at Lake Flaccid, medicinal roots and herbs to the witch doctors in Walla Walla Bing Bang, and then back to Cape Suzette.

He'd promised Kit that he would think about cutting Becky a little slack, and he had, but his thinking hadn't changed his mind one bit. Many times he had overreacted to something that Becky had said or done, but this simply wasn't one of those times. She had hurt him, deep down on the most primal level. And not just hurt him, denied him, as a friend, a lover, and as a man. He knew that his rage was less anger and more sadness, but the transference was the only way he knew how to deal with emotion of this power and depth. As far as he was concerned, she still didn't exist to him, and getting away from Cape Suzette and Rebecca Cunningham for a day was just what he needed.

"Hey Papa Bear," Kit said, stepping in from the open cargo door.

"Mornin' Lil' Britches. You ready for the day's run?"

An uncomfortable look crossed his face. "Um…not exactly."

This got Baloo's attention. "Whaddya mean, 'not exactly'?"

"Well, do you want the good news or the bad news?"

"Oh, no. I guess go with the good first, it might soften the blow a little bit."

"I think Miz Cunningham took my advice to try to talk to you."

"That's the _good_ news? I'm scared to hear the bad."

"The bad news is, I'm not your navigator for this run. I'm running the office today."

Baloo stared at him blankly for a moment, the meaning of that statement not sinking in for a few seconds. "Oh, no. Kit please tell me you're not saying what I think you're saying."

"If you think I'm saying that Rebecca's planning on taking my place, then I'm afraid I can't do that."

Baloo closed his eyes and took a long slow breath, then turned and headed for the cockpit. "It's gonna be a looong day. Maybe I can get outta here before she gets aboard. Better hop off, Kit."

"Bad idea, Papa Bear."

"Better than the alternative. See ya tonight, kiddo."

He sat down in the left seat and flipped the switch that would close the hatch. He had already filed his flight plan, so he wouldn't have to go into the office one last time and tip Becky that he was about to leave. If he could clear the dock before she realized it, he would be home free. He completed his pre-flight checks, listened to the ATIS, then dialled in Cape Suzette ground control.

"Suzette ground, Sea Duck N-X seven four niner seven seven, pier four two zero, with delta, ready to taxi."

"Sea Duck, ground, morning Baloo."

"Morning Charlie."

"We'll have you cleared for a direct departure in a moment, stand by."

"Sea Duck, standing by."

He flipped the master on and listened as the gyros spun up. He should've started the engines by now, but he was waiting as long as he could.

"Sea Duck, ground, cleared to taxi and depart, pier 420, direct, contact departure point four, good day."

"See ya tonight, Charlie."

"Nope, worked the graveyard, signing off in just a few, it'll be McDougall."

"Then sleep good. Sea Duck, departing 420, direct."

He had replaced the Superflight 100s with the Pratt & Whitney Twin Wasp 1830s a few years ago. They were more powerful and more efficient, but they also took a lot longer to start. The Superflights sprung to life, the Pratts had to be coaxed. After ten seconds of cranking, number one finally fired and turned over, roaring to life. He reversed the prop for just under a second to gain momentum away from the dock, breathing an inward sigh of relief that he was going to make his getaway. But then the Duck jerked and stopped. He knew immediately what had happened. Looking out the windshield confirmed it. The bow line was still attached to the nose cleat.

He feathered the prop, which allowed the Duck to slowly float back towards the dock thanks to the reversing momentum imparted by the bow line, then got out of his seat, climbed out on the nose and released the line. By the time he was back in the cockpit, Rebecca was closing the starboard aft door behind her.

He sighed, reversed the Duck away from the dock, started the number two engine, then applied full power as Becky settled into the right seat. She knew exactly what he'd tried to do, but to her credit, she made no comment.

"Departure, Sea Duck NX74977, just off 420, headed out."

"Sea Duck, Departure, cleared through the cliff. Squawk one one four two, climb and maintain five thousand, vector 127 for traffic."

"1142, five thousand, vector 127, Sea Duck."

They sailed through the cliff and Baloo turned south-east to clear inbound traffic as instructed, then switched to the number two radio while still monitoring the departure frequency.

"Suzette Radio, Sea Duck NX74977, listening on 122.7"

It was a moment before Flight Service responded.

"Sea Duck, Suzette Radio, go ahead."

"Good morning, Suzette, this is the Sea Duck, off at ten minutes past the hour. I'd like to activate my VFR flight plan to Macadamia."

"Sea Duck, Suzette Radio, flight plan activated, no significant weather along your planned course, AIRMET Sierra for Clear Air Turbulence beginning at 1930 Zulu, Suzette Altimeter 30.15."

"3015, Sea Duck, good day sir."

A few minutes later, the radio crackled to life again.

"Sea Duck, departure, clear of the class Charlie airspace. Climb and maintain one zero thousand, contact Center 121.35."

"121.35, Sea Duck."

He briefly glanced at Becky out of the corner of his eye as he turned on course and checked in with Center. She was looking out the side window, so he risked a slightly longer look. She had obviously rushed out of the office; he was glad he had accomplished at least that much. She was wearing only her white turtleneck, which only served to accentuate her slim figure. He had always found her attractive (you'd have to be blind not to, and maybe not even then), but since the other night, even when he was pretending she didn't exist she was absolutely stunning. Heart stoppingly gorgeous. Flashes of the other night, thoughts of her body meshing with his swam through his mind. But they didn't arouse him; they only accentuated the loss, the denial, the feeling of worthlessness. His grip tightened on the yoke and he averted his eyes.

There would be no dealing with Miz Rebecca Cunningham today. As far as he was concerned, he was the only one on board.

* * *

The sun was setting behind them as they made their way back to Cape Suzette and the cabin was slowly becoming enshrouded with darkness. After a few minutes, the faint glow of the instrument panel was the only light remaining. Barely enough to make out Baloo's profile next to her.

She had not expected this day to be easy. But she had at least expected to make progress. She had not.

Baloo had been doing more than ignoring her since their night together. He was literally pretending that she didn't exist. And not just that, it was an Oscar winning performance. Someone with no background on the situation would wonder if she were a figment of their imagination. And that was no exaggeration. She had tried to help unload the cargo and interact with their customers in Macadamia, who quickly sensed (ironically) that a serious lover's spat was occurring and had scurried away.

At Lake Flaccid, he had astonishingly made a remark along the lines that the boxes floating out of the hold on their own astounded and mystified him, and said it seriously enough that the Parks Director had looked twice at her before also deciding that an interpersonal crisis was in the offing and quickly found somewhere else to be. She stayed in the cockpit in Walla Walla Bing Bang, scared of what the natives might make of the act. Throughout the trip she had tried to engage him in conversation, had tried to apologize, had tried to simply get him to acknowledge her presence. Nothing even made a dent.

She was scared now, moreso than she had been. She knew she had handled their unexpected coupling badly. She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth, but didn't know how to take them back. Perhaps she couldn't. And Kit had played it straight when talking to her last night. This simply couldn't continue. It would have to end, and soon. And badly, with the two of them never crossing paths again, now seemed to be the only way it _could_ end.

She was staring out the side window, despondent, when a strange flicker caught her eye. She followed it as it passed to their right, brightening into a brilliant shooting star that flared like a firework before fading into the night. She started to comment on it, but then realized that Baloo could not have seen it, and wouldn't acknowledge her even if he had.

But then she decided to take it as an omen, instead. She took a slow, calming breath. Keeping her eyes on the stars out the window, she spoke.

"Baloo, you can play this game all you want. And you've made it plainly clear today that you can play it better than any Starrywood actor ever could. And I don't blame you for it. I only blame myself. But you can't not hear me. Ignore me, sure, but the laws of physics force you to be aware of the fact that I'm speaking. So please…please just listen for a bit. You don't have to acknowledge me, but please listen.

"I don't know what I could ever say to you…to fix…no, I know I can't fix…to maybe…maybe _begin_ to make up for, what happened the other morning. I don't even know what to say to explain. I guess all I can do is try.

"I was scared, Baloo. Scared out of my mind. Aiden was the only person I've ever loved." She could hear her voice getting shaky. She tried to steady it, but couldn't. "And he was taken from me so suddenly, so abruptly, so violently, that I didn't think I'd ever love anyone ever again. And in the last few days, I've been able to explain to myself why every romantic relationship I've had since has failed miserably. Because I've wanted them to. Despite what I've said, subconsciously I've made them self-destruct." She sniffled and let out a small laugh. "At least when they haven't done it on their own." She took another long breath.

"Two months ago was ten years, Baloo. Ten years since Aiden was murdered. I looked back, and it seemed so long ago, but at the same time seemed like only yesterday. And the enormity of that came crashing down on me and I…I felt so alone. Two months now, and I've felt like the only person who exists. Even Molly, who looks more like him every day, seemed like only a photograph.

"But that night, you started to seem real. Maybe it was the wine, but just laughing and talking like we were, you started to seem real. And I just had to hold you, had to be held by you. To feel like _I_ was real. Because I wasn't sure I was anymore. The whole world had become grey and washed out. And so I came to you. And when you took me in your arms, and I closed my eyes there in the darkness, for a brief moment I felt almost normal.

"And for the first time since he died, I felt like I could talk about Aiden to someone. And then I felt like I _needed_ to talk about him to someone, and I knew I could trust you. And so I opened up. And I felt as though I'd cast off this incredible weight. Baloo I haven't slept that good for as far back as I can remember."

She was quiet for a moment, not quite sure how to proceed. She knew what she had to say, what she needed to say, but she wasn't sure she could. But she also knew that what was keeping her from saying those words was the same thing that had made her say the awful things to Baloo that had put her in this situation to begin with.

She glanced over at him. He was staring straight out the windshield and the formless sky, filled from horizon to horizon with a number of stars she only ever saw out here over the open ocean, far from land. She couldn't tell for sure, not being able to read his face in the dark cockpit, but she felt she might be getting through to him. She looked away again quickly, not wanting her attention to push him away again.

"I…I don't know how…to say this. I don't know if you can understand, Baloo. I don't know if you've ever loved someone…like I…and…and then…"

She took a long, shuddering breath.

"I had a boyfriend in junior high. The only one I ever had. My dad drove me so hard; I was always so busy. I never had the time. That lasted about two months. Like I said, I just didn't have the time for him. And I always wondered if things would have been different if I had been more experienced when I met Aiden. Maybe I wouldn't have fallen so hard, so fast. But then I realized that it didn't matter. It was what it was. And I loved him so much. I'm sure you're about sick of hearing that, but I have to be sure I emphasize it or what comes next won't sound like I need it to. And I need it to…"

She let out a cry of frustration and pounded her fist on the armrest, wiping her eyes with the other and continued to stare out the window. It took her a few moments and another long breath to compose herself enough to continue.

"So when we woke up the next morning, it just felt so right, and so natural. And so when we…well…it was good, Baloo. Great. It was my first time since Aiden, and up until then he was the only one I was ever with…that way. And when it was over, I felt like a starved woman who had just finished a feast."

She could hold out no longer. She began to cry, and cried hard. She had danced around it for as long as she could, and now she had to face up to the truth. Perhaps she shouldn't feel guilty. But she did.

"I'm sorry…I…"

She managed to reign in the sobs, and took another moment to gather in what little composure she had left.

"You got up and took your shower, and I curled up under the covers there, totally at peace, and then I realized...that I…I'm in love with you, Baloo."

* * *

And there it was. He managed not to look at her. When she started talking, he made up his mind that nothing she said was going to change things. But she spoke with such sincerity, and with such pain that he couldn't ignore her. He pretended to, trying to keep up the game. But she was reaching him. He still didn't understand what had happened that morning, why she had acted that way. Realizing that she loved him seemed like it would have a positive effect on the situation, not a negative one.

She was quiet now, and seemed finished. But he remained impassive, and after a few more moments, she continued. Her tone was different now. Flat, unemotional. As though she had drained herself because something of great emotional weight now threatened to crush her.

"But it wasn't that, Baloo. I could deal with that. Hell, honestly, I think we both knew it was possible. The way things have been between us since we met, it was almost inevitable." She paused another long moment. "It was…I thought…"

She stopped again, looking down at herself wringing her hands in her lap.

"It…it was better. I realized…that I felt more with you, the sex was more with you, that the idea of being a couple seemed more natural with you. That I…loved…you. More. More than anything I ever felt with Aiden."

Baloo was shocked. Completely unprepared for the enormity of what she was saying. It made the whole thing seem simpler and yet impossibly more complex. And he didn't envy her the torrent of emotions she was battling. The flatness had left her voice. She was struggling to maintain her composure.

"My heart sank. I was…I didn't know _what_ I was. It felt like a betrayal. The worst kind of betrayal to the only man who ever loved me, the only man I had ever loved before. I tried to deny it, but it was impossible, not with the bed still warm where you were, the scent of you right there, when I could still feel the heat of you inside me. I…I panicked. Suddenly I felt naked…I mean I _was_ naked, but suddenly I _felt_ it. Naked with a thousand cold, accusing eyes staring at me. And I had to get out. Get away."

She began to cry again.

"I got sick. I ran into the bathroom and got sick. And then I came out after showering and there you were, setting the table, and _that_ seemed so right, so domestic, I could almost _see_ Aiden there instead of you. And guilt just washed over me, I was drowning in it."

He only realized that he was looking at her when she turned to look at him and their eyes met. She gave him a small smile.

"And you were so sweet, Baloo. Oh, you were doing everything right. And that just made it harder."

She looked back out the window, that momentary connection all she could bear.

"I ran. I panicked and I ran. And I said those awful things to you. And I didn't mean them. I wanted to be with you. I _want_ to be with you. And I want to talk about it. Every day, like it's just a normal part of our lives. And I want to live our lives together. But above all that is this guilt. And I don't know how to reconcile it. I know I shouldn't feel that way, but I do. 'Til death do we part', that was the vow I took. And I've kept it ten years longer than I was required to. But I still don't know how to let go."

She was quiet a moment more. Baloo wanted to say something, but simply didn't know what.

"Baloo…I'm sorry. You must feel as though I betrayed you, as well. And you're right to feel that way. I would take it all back if I could save you the pain. I never meant to hurt you. They say you always hurt the ones you love, well I guess I must _really_ love you then, huh?" She laughed wretchedly as she said that.

Silence descended on the cockpit. The awful eternal silence of a tomb with the engines playing a continuous one note threnody. A few minutes went by and then Rebecca stood and took two steps towards the bulkhead door.

"I hope that…someday…you can forgive me. Someday."

She turned back towards the door, took a step, and then stopped at the sound of Baloo's voice.

"Rebecca…" He took a breath, sighed. "I want to say something but I…my thoughts, my feelings…I…I'm all jumbled up right now. That was…I mean you…"

"I just took a giant shit on you."

Baloo chuckled. "Yeah. Something like that. I just…need a little time."

She turned to look at him. He was turned around in his seat, looking at her. When their eyes met he extended his hand to her, palm up. She reached out and took it with both hands, rotated it palm down and raised it to her cheek. She held it there for a moment, then kissed it and let it go.

"All you need."

She turned and walked back into the empty hold, closing the door behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

_ A later part of this chapter might, very briefly, qualify for an M rating. You'll see worse on primetime network TV (with the exception of a single word). Don't really think it's enough to bump the story's rating up, but readers be forewarned._

* * *

Baloo walked into the office the next morning, better than an hour early. He had spent last night on the roof of his building, staring up at the sky, sipping icy dark beer, and trying to absorb and process everything that had happened in the last week. Throughout the night, even long after he finished the six-pack, sleep remained far from his mind. But the hours were productive nonetheless.

He was still angry, still hurt, but he had come to an understanding, come to terms with the situation. Now all he needed was time for the wounds to heal.

He noticed Becky right away. It was not at all unusual for her to be here this early. She was at her desk, head in her hands and obviously not yet aware of him. He cleared his throat as he closed the door softly behind him and she looked up, startled.

"Oh, good morning, Baloo."

Her voice was shaky, as though she had been crying.

"Morning, Becky."

"So I exist today?" The question wasn't sarcastic. It had been phrased with a note of hopeful sorrow. Baloo gave her a small smile.

"Yeah. Yeah ya do, Beckers."

She returned the smile. Tears glimmered in her eyes. "That's good. I like existence."

"I'm pretty fond of it myself. I uh…I've got that run to Decatur today, but then I'd like to take the Duck for the rest of the afternoon. If you don't mind."

"That'd be fine."

"Kit and I loaded her up last night. He's going over the manifest now, and then we're gonna go ahead and get out. Supposed to be some weather that way later on, I want to beat it out."

"Good idea. I'll…I'll see you when you get back?"

He nodded. "Look, Rebecca…"

He paused. He thought he'd worked this out last night, but now he was finding it difficult to know where to begin. So he decided to start with that.

"It took a lot 'a guts to speak to me like you did yesterday. There's something I want to tell you, and I'm having trouble deciding how to say it. So I guess I can kinda see how it musta been for ya.

"See…there was this girl…back in high school. Heidi, her name was. Real looker, too. Guess that's why I could never approach her. But then we ended up having a couple of classes together. And we got to be real good friends. And I fell head over heels for her. But I never told her. I was worried…I…I didn't want to risk the friendship. But then she moved away. And that's when I told her. I figured there wasn't gonna be much of a friendship anymore, so..." He shrugged.

"Anyway, long story short, she moved back about a year later. And we started trying to rekindle things. Easy for me, I mean my feelings hadn't changed none. But she was easing into it. And it started to work, started to heat up. I was startin' to think about happily ever afters. We were right there, about to take that step. Become a couple.

"And then she got killed. Drunk driver ran her off the road. Kinda soured me on the whole idea of relationships after that. Guess that's why I've always been sorta a loner, at least 'til I met Kit and you and Molly. I sure do miss that girl. Even today, sometimes I find myself thinkin' 'bout her. So I guess I know a little bit how you felt about your husband."

Becky remained silent. It was completely out of character for her to listen to him speak at such length and not say a single word. Of course, he couldn't recall ever having had the _need_ to speak at such length. Regardless, he took it as a sign of how humbled she was by her outburst.

"Now had we got married, and been together for a few years before that happened, would I have felt guilty about the other night? I don't know. I mean, that's not one you can truthfully answer any kinda way unless you've had the experience. But I don't think so. And even if I had, I don't think I woulda reacted the way you did, or said the things you did. I was hurt, and angry, and I still am."

"Baloo, I am so, so sorry."

"I know you are. And I accept your apology. And I forgive you. I mean, we're all flawed, we all make mistakes, we all say things in the heat of a moment we wish we could take back later. And I want you to know, things'll be okay again. I want them to be. But ya can't just flip a switch and make those feelings go away. It's just gonna take me a little time, you know?"

"Well then, consider yourself on paid leave for however long you need."

"I appreciate that." He gazed at her for a few moments, silence stretching out uncomfortably between them. "I uh…I guess I better go."

"Okay."

He walked towards the door and opened it as softly as he had closed it. As he was leaving, he heard Becky's voice again.

"Baloo…I…I…"

He looked her in the eyes and gave her a small smile. "I love you too, Becky."

Then he was gone.

* * *

"Sea Duck, departure, clear of the class Charlie airspace, radar service terminated. Squawk VFR, frequency change approved, have a good day."

"Squawk one two zero zero, see y'all later."

Baloo sighed and put the mike down, then unfastened his seat belt.

"All yours, Kit."

He vacated the left seat and Kit moved over. He was becoming quite an accomplished pilot under Baloo's tutelage. Though he lacked the raw talent of his teacher, he made most of it up with brains and savvy. He was still a long way from a commercial multi-engine rating, but as much as they flew, he would cover that distance at a relatively swift pace.

He ducked into the hold and retrieved a soft drink from the large cooler that was primarily stocked with a much harder selection for later, then returned to the cockpit and lounged in the right seat.

Decatur Island, being so close, was a regular stop for them, and although it would have been faster to fly a straight-line course over the ocean, Baloo preferred to navigate visually and hop island to island, avoiding controlled airspace. Becky would likely not appreciate the extra time and expense, which was probably why he always failed to mention that the only times they ever went direct were if she was on board, or it was IMC. Regardless, Kit was flying the zigzag course expertly and Baloo only had to watch.

They landed uneventfully and as Kit eased the plane towards the dock, he turned the bottle up to drain the last dregs, and nearly choked when he gasped and inhaled instead of swallowed. His resultant coughing fit distracted Kit enough that he came into the sloop too quickly and the Duck threw them both forward as she crashed to a stop.

"What is it, Baloo?"

Still attempting to catch his breath, he could only point out the window. That not being enough, Kit waited patiently until Baloo could speak.

"That plane!" he exclaimed, pointing again, bolting out of the cockpit. Kit followed right behind him.

"Which one?"

Baloo didn't answer. He rushed up the docks and across the road to the land base side of the Decatur airfield, making a beeline for the airplane in question.

It was almost certainly the only bright lime green PT-17 in existence. And even from a distance, the unmistakable Felix the Cat insignia of VF-3 was readily apparent under the front cockpit windshield. That meant it just _had_ to be the airplane Baloo thought it was. After rushing all the way over, he approached it slowly, in awe. He placed his hand lovingly on the lower wing and ran it, caressing the doped fabric, along the wing and then the fuselage as he approached the tail. Mouth agape, he touched the registration number on the vertical stabilizer: NX65038.

"What is it, Papa Bear?"

"Kit…this is the airplane I learned how to fly in. Belonged to an old Vet, went by the name Bogus Charlie. Flew Wildcats and later on Corsairs off carriers during the war." He laughed softly and said the name again. "That cranky old codger is the man that taught me how to fly, and this is the plane he used to teach me."

Kit also caressed the airplane, now in awe himself, grinning ear to ear.

"I thought it'd been destroyed years ago. Heard ol' Charlie tangled it in some power lines barnstormin' a farm that just had electricity run to it."

He walked around the airplane, marvelling.

"It looks brand new! Heck, it didn't look this good when I was flying it and that was better than 25 years ago!"

An angry voice rose from behind them. "Hey! Get your grubby mitts off of my plane!"

They spun, startled, to see one of the Decatur Aerodrome's rampies grinning at them. "I'm sorry, guys, I just couldn't resist," he said.

"Josh, I sure am glad you're working as a rampie," Baloo said.

"Why is that?"

"Because you wouldn't make much of a living as a comedian," Kit finished.

"Oh yeah, and you guys are _such_ a riot."

He shook their hands and gestured at the old Stearman. "This one catch your eye?"

"Sure did. I actually learned to fly in this airplane. You don't know who owns it do ya?"

"I just do happen to possess that information."

"Old fella? Calls himself Bogus Charlie?"

"Afraid I've never heard that name. No, owner of this beauty runs First State Bank, over on the corner of 2nd and Monroe. Name's Sam Beckett."

"Well, we're just gonna have to go on over there and have a chat with him."

"Uh…I don't think you wanna do that."

"Well I'm gonna track that guy down if it's the last thing I do."

"Yeah, but see, the thing is-."

"Oh, don't worry about old Baloo. I can handle anything he might throw at me."

Josh laughed and shook his head. "All right. Have it your way. But don't say I didn't try to warn you."

"Oh, don't worry about that. Hey, thanks for the info, Josh."

"No problem, Baloo."

Being highly motivated, it didn't take Baloo and Kit long to get the cargo unloaded, and they headed straight for the bank. It was a small limestone structure, the north and east face of the building running along Second Avenue and Monroe Street, respectively, with the entrance centered exactly in the Northeast corner. They entered onto marble flooring and looked up to high skylighted ceilings. Despite the fact the island had been inhabited for only about 70 years, the building seemed ancient.

Almost immediately they were approached by a steward who asked how he could help them.

"Could you tell me where I might find Sam Beckett?"

The steward pointed to a trim woman of no more than twenty-five. She had neatly coifed red hair, and was wearing an immaculately tailored suit of grey ¾ length skirt, grey jacket and white blouse the exact same shade as her fur. She was standing next to a desk as though waiting for someone, perhaps Mr. Beckett. Baloo approached her and cleared his throat softly. She turned.

"Yes?"

"I was wonderin' if you could help me. I'm lookin' for a Mr. Beckett. Sam Beckett."

The woman's eyes narrowed.

"And you are?"

"Uh, name's Baloo, ma'am. Is he in?"

"There's no Mr. Beckett who works here," she said, perhaps a bit more coolly than was necessary.

"Well I was assured there was and I really need to see him."

"Well then whoever assured you was grossly misinformed." Her tone was definitely standoffish, and her gaze was absolutely frigid. Baloo had noticed and wasn't responding favorably. Kit, however had lowered his head and covered his mouth. Baloo didn't notice, but the woman did.

"Look lady, I was told the owner of this here bank-."

"_I'm_ the owner of this here bank," she snapped.

This stopped Baloo in his tracks.

"Now wait just a cotton-pickin' minute. They told me there was a guy here-."

"Well then who are _they_? Because _they_ were wrong."

Baloo stammered for a moment. "You're telling me there's no Sam Beckett here?"

"That's _not_ what I said."

Baloo stared at her blankly.

"I'm Samantha Beckett, the owner of First State Bank of Decatur. Is there something _I_ can do for you? _Mr._ Baloo?"

Kit was now laughing through his hand. "I'm sorry, ma'am," he said. "I'm laughing at him, not at you."

Her icy demeanor cracked a bit as Baloo looked from her to Kit and back again, utterly confused.

"Give us a moment, would you, Baloo?"

Without waiting for permission, Kit pulled the slightly older woman aside. She was tall, nearly tall as he was. She was perfectly proportioned and he was having to make an effort to keep his eyes from straying away from hers, despite their being a mesmerizingly brilliant green.

"I'm sorry, Miss Beckett. He doesn't mean anything by his attitude. He's just confused. Trust me, there's not a sexist bone in his whole body. In fact, our boss is a woman, and we've been working for her for going on eight years now."

Her eyebrows raised. "You don't look that old."

"Twenty in a few months. I started navigating part time for Higher for Hire when I was twelve. Went full time when I graduated last year. I'm rated for Single Engine Sea and Land, working on my instrument, then on to multi and commercial."

"You work for Higher for Hire? Rebecca Cunningham's outfit?"

"One and the same. Thought you might be at least familiar with her. But seriously, Baloo's just excited. I'll let him explain, I don't want to spoil it for him. But he rushed over here just with the name Sam. A perfectly honest mistake. If he'd been told Samantha, you wouldn't have felt slighted at all." He gave her his most forthright stare, which he'd used to his advantage against more than a few pretty faces before. "Trust me."

She regarded him skeptically for a moment, but then smiled. "Okay."

He took her hand, ostensibly to guide her back towards Baloo, but he admitted to getting a small thrill from it. He gave Baloo a look he'd used on him on many occasions. It said to erase whatever had just happened and start over. Baloo had become adept at recognizing the look and following its instructions.

"Baloo, this is Miss Samantha Beckett. She's the person you're looking for."

He stuck out his hand. "I'm sorry about all that, Miss Beckett. I just had some bad information, that's all."

"And I apologize for getting testy with you. A weakness of mine, I'm afraid. What can I do for you?"

"I was wonderin' how you came to own that old Stearman."

"Found it in pieces in a barn about two years ago. Always wanted one and there aren't a whole lot of them around anymore. So I had it restored. Don't know much about it, but it looked very unique, so I kept it the way I found it. It's been in the air just over a week now."

"Well, I can tell you plenty about it. 'Cause that's the airplane I learned how to fly in, and I'd give my two left feet to fly it again."

This definitely got her attention. "Really? Then perhaps-."

They were interrupted by a staccato burst of gunfire. Screams followed close behind.

"_Everyone down on the ground! Right now!_"

A short man in a black jumpsuit and ski mask, brandishing a Thompson Sub-machine gun sporting the fifty round drum magazine, and wearing a Colt .45 strapped to his right hip, instantly had everyone's attention. He was completely covered up, the only exception being the black tufted ears of a lynx sticking out of the top of the ski mask. He was pushing people down as he made his way towards the counter as the rest fell on their own. Kit pushed Sam down and dove on top of her just as the robber fired another wild burst that would have cut them in two. A short woman in her thirties was the last one still on her feet, standing in the middle of the room, too terrified to move. A man was on the ground beside her tugging on her arm, trying to get her down.

"What, bitch, you think you're special or somethin'?" The gunman asked. Without waiting for a response, he fired a burst into her chest from point blank range. "You're not."

Screams rose again as she dropped like a wet burlap sack, and at least one other patron was struck by one or more of the bullets that passed through the woman's now lifeless body.

"_Cindy!_" the man beside her screamed. "Oh, God, Cindy, no!"

"Shut up!" the gunman shouted at him. "Everybody shut _up_! Obviously, I'm dead fucking serious here, so do exactly as I say or you'll end up looking like her." He took off a large paperboy's bag he was wearing opposite the hip from the Colt and tossed it to the nearest teller.

"You've got ninety seconds to have that full." He leveled the Thompson at her. "I don't advise you run late."

He began to stalk around the perimeter of the room, gun at waist level, as though waiting for anyone to give him a reason to pull the trigger. As he approached them, Kit glanced over at Baloo and his heart froze momentarily. He could tell by the look in his eyes, the set of his jaw, the tension in his muscles that he was primed to strike, and utterly determined to act. It was a look he knew well, and as such he knew even with a half-hour to try, he would not be able to talk him out of it, and right now he didn't even have a half-second. All he could do was be ready and hope.

Sure enough, as soon as the crook passed them, Baloo was on his feet, surprisingly fast for as big as he was. The gunman sensed him right away and brought the Chicago Typewriter to bear. Baloo's jackhammer right cross struck jawbone with an audible crunch, and gunman and gun flew in opposite directions.

Kit was up and diving for the Tommy Gun as Baloo pressed the attack. But even as he fell, the crook was grasping at his sidearm. He landed on his back and as Baloo towered over him he fired several shots at point blank range. Kit was on his feet as Baloo howled in pain and fell.

"_Drop it!_" Kit shouted, pointing the machine gun at the crook, who was facing away from him. The murderer's only response was to attempt to bring the pistol around and Kit squeezed the trigger, sending bullets to man, and man to hell. He threw the weapon down as a shocked silence filled the room and slid to his knees beside Baloo, who was slowly sitting up. He was attempting to staunch the flow of blood from a deep gash in his left shoulder.

"Baloo!"

He groaned. "I'm okay, Little Britches. Just grazed me. Musta rung his bell pretty good, I could swear that thing was pointed right in my face."

Sam was suddenly beside them.

"Is he okay?"

"Yeah, have you got some bandages?"

"Yes." She hurried off.

The deathly silence was slowly fading. Sobs from a woman who had been hit by the .45 caliber rounds passing through the first victim. Murmured voices. Sirens in the distance. But most prominently a low, keening wail from the husband, cradling his dead wife in his lap. Baloo's eyes were fixed on that sight, and he could not look away.

* * *

It took about three hours for things at the bank to return to normal. Statements were taken. Crime scene photos were taken. The Thompson, Colt, and expended casings were bagged as evidence. The bodies were removed. The injured customer was taken away in an ambulance. Baloo's arm was bandaged by paramedics, but he refused to be taken to a hospital. Kit was assured by several police officers that shooting the criminal was clearly an act of self-defense and he would not be charged in any way. Finally, they were allowed to leave. Sam walked with them the three blocks to where the Sea Duck was moored. Nothing was said until they were ready to board.

"Baloo, Kit, I can't thank you enough. You were both heroes today."

"Aw, think nothin' of it, Miss Beckett," Baloo responded. He clearly meant it, but his gaze was miles away.

"Call me Sam. And I'm afraid I can't do that. You come back anytime and we'll get that Stearman in the air."

This coaxed a small smile from Baloo. "We'll do that."

She hugged him like an old friend. The incident at the bank had instantly made them close. She also hugged Kit, but held him longer and added a quick kiss on the cheek.

"My personal hero," she whispered in his ear.

She broke the embrace, but continued to hold him by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes.

"I can see you're struggling with this. And you're right to. Any good man would. It's not an easy thing to take a life, even when you're justified in doing it. But remember, it _was_ the right thing to do. Evil must always be resisted. And it's entirely possible that once he got what he wanted, he would have killed everyone in there. You're a hero, Kit. A hero."

He nodded in response and she hugged him again.

"See you guys next time. Don't be long."

She turned and walked away without looking back.

* * *

_A quick note: Heidi's story is, unfortunately, quite true. Slightly modified to better fit the circumstances, but true. I use it here as a small tribute. HMS 7.6.1981 - 11.9.2000...I miss ya, girl._


	4. Chapter 4

The Sea Duck bobbed gently on the small waves. It had taken them nearly a year of exploring to find this spot after the incident with Moby Dimple and Seymour had revealed the location of their previous secret cove. As it turned out, this one was much better. Despite a storm raging over them, only minor chop existed where they were anchored. This cove was shaped like a large horseshoe, with sea level no less than 700 feet below the top of the surrounding cliffs, and they were further sheltered in a small inlet at nearly a right angle to the outlet of the cove.

Their best guess was that the small island was actually the collapsed caldera of an ancient volcano, long extinct. Whatever it was, the island was mostly rock and sheer cliffs. It was roughly a mile and a half in circumference, and only a hundred yards wide at it's widest point. There was no reason for it to be inhabited, nor was it. It was not on any map, and they had never seen another soul anywhere near it.

By now, the trash can was a good deal more filled than was the cooler, and they were both feeling well past tipsy as they sat just inside the open cargo doors watching the rain pour down, listening to the thunder. Both aft doors were also open and a refreshing light and cool breeze wafted through the empty cargo bay. Though normally they bantered at length with fishing poles cast, today they had said very little. They simply sat staring out the open doors, each leaving the other to his thoughts.

"She was right, ya know," Baloo said eventually.

"Who?"

"Sam. Samantha. About you."

He scoffed. "If it was anyone, it was you. You're the one who acted first."

"Naw, I did a foolish thing. I shoulda stayed on my face. Besides, I wasn't acting. I was mad for other reasons, and trying to take it out on a man who, but for the grace of God, woulda turned me into Swiss cheese. I saw you push Sam down and cover her up. That second volley went right through where she was standin' and just barely missed _you_. You didn't even know her and you saved her life. And then you backed me up when what _you_ shoulda done was stay on your face. So ya saved my life too. Those were truly heroic actions, kiddo."

"Well I don't feel like a hero."

"I know ya don't. And a real hero never does. I'm proud 'a ya, son."

Baloo didn't call him "son" that often. It was usually reserved for special occasions. Baloo knew that Kit considered him his father in every way that mattered. It seemed though that he still felt the need to respect the man who really was, just in case Kit hadn't been abandoned, but orphaned for some other reason. It wasn't necessary, but it also made the times Baloo did refer to him that way more special.

"Thanks, Papa Bear."

There were a few minutes of silence.  
"Cute though, isn't she?" Baloo said.

"Who?"

"Sam."

"Oh, Baloo, I'm not thinking about that right now."

"Why not?"

"Baloo, I killed someone earlier today! Romance is about the furthest thing from my mind right now. In fact, I'm doing my best to not think anything at all. So let's just let it drop, okay?"

"All right, whatever you say, kiddo."

He was quiet for a few moments more.

"She _is_ cute though, isn't she?" Baloo said.

Kit smiled. The first one since the robbery.

"Yeah. Yeah she is. Real cute."

"And ya saved her life. You'll never get a better in than that."

"I don't know…She owns a bank, and had that Stearman restored…she's got to be rich. And she's older than me too."

"Now, Kit, you know none of that matters. It's all about a _connection_. And trust me, you connected with her today."

"Yeah, I guess. But as pretty as she is, _and_ with money…she's _got_ to have a boyfriend."

"You'll never know until you ask. Worst thing she can do is say no."

"Ah…I guess. So what were the "other reasons" you were mad about?"

Kit's subject changes were normally more subtle, but Baloo let him get away with it.

"It's all this stuff with Becky. Even though I'm not mad _at_ her anymore, the anger's still there. Haven't been able to put it to bed. And then he killed that man's wife…just out of spite…_out of spite_! And I thought to myself, 'what if that were me and Becky?'. After that, I just had to act."

Kit nodded.

"So what made you change your mind about her all of a sudden?"

"I can't tell ya, Little Britches. I wish I could, and if it were just me, I would. But if I told ya I'd be violating Becky's trust."

"I understand."

"Just say that she explained herself to me, and it was a damn good explanation."

"That's plenty." He paused a moment before asking. "So then what now?"

Baloo drew a great breath, let it out slowly. "I want to be with her, Kit. I'm in love with her, ya know."

"Oh, Papa Bear, of course I know. I've known longer than you have."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Baloo, the only people who didn't think it was obvious that you and Rebecca were in love with each other were you and Rebecca. You were always too busy trying to pretend that you _weren't_ in love with each other."

"Kit boy, you're spinning your propellers, but I'm afraid you're not goin' anywhere."

"Baloo, you two belong together. You're…soul mates, for want of a better term. But circumstance, meaning primarily Molly and I, made you guys a couple before you were even friends. You're as much a father to her as you are to me, and Rebecca's as much a mother to me as she is to Molly. Once you got to the point where you liked each other, love was inevitable. And trust me, you guys could have taken this step five years ago."

Baloo scoffed.

"No, seriously. Think, when did you first have the slightest inkling that you might have feelings for Rebecca that were beyond platonic."

He groaned. "Oh, I don't know." He mulled it over for several moments. "If I had to nail it down to any one particular event, it was probably at Lake Flaccid after that mission to Mars thing."

"Nope."

"Listen to you, you little pissant! Trying to tell me about my own feelings!"

"That's because in this one instance, I know better than you. _That_ was when you first _started_ having feelings for her. When did it first cross your mind?"

"Kit!"

"-En Kaboodle."

"What?"

"The Starrywood thing. After Rebecca saved your life. That was when the idea first occurred to you. And to her too, for that matter. Because you both started treating each other just a _little_ different after that."

Baloo thought a moment, and his mouth fell open.

"By George, I think you're right," he said, slightly awed.

"Of course I'm right. I'm always right."

He tipped up his bottle, stood, and stretched.

"And I think I'm right off to bed."

"All right, kiddo. I don't think I'm too far behind you."

"See ya in the morning, Papa Bear."

* * *

"Good morning, Higher for Hire."

"I was wondering if Kit was available?"

Becky was surprised enough that it took her a moment to find her voice.

"Um, no he's not, might I ask who's calling?"

"Is this Miss Cunningham?"

"Yes it is. Who is this?"

"Miss Cunningham, I'm Samantha Beckett, owner of First State Bank of Decatur. I was just calling to check on how Kit…and Baloo too…how they were doing after everything yesterday."

"I don't know what you mean."

"After the robbery. I was wondering-."

"_Robbery?!_ What robbery?"

"Oh…um…I'm sorry…I guess I assumed that when they came back yesterday…"

"Look, Miss…what did you say your name was?"

"Beckett. Sam Beckett."

"Miss Beckett, Baloo and Kit had a cargo run to Decatur Island yesterday, after which they were taking some leave time. I haven't, and don't expect to, see them for a couple of days. And I don't know _anything_ about a robbery!"

"Oh, Miss Cunningham, I am _so_ sorry. You see…"

She went over the incident in as much detail as she could, starting with why they were even at the bank in the first place.

"I'm sorry you have to hear about it like this, I didn't realize they weren't flying back to Cape Suzette or I wouldn't have called."

"It's quite all right. I guess I'm a little upset they didn't phone me about it yesterday. But if I may…your interest seems a little more than professional concern."

Over the line came the not quite concealed sound of a cross between a girlish giggle and a nervous clearing of throat, as though the receiver were being muffled by covering it with a hand. Becky felt her temper begin to boil. If some crusty old banker though she was gonna get her hands on Baloo after everything that had happened the past week, she had another think coming.

"Well, yes, actually…it's Kit. He seemed-."

"_Kit?!_"

"Well, yes, ma'am. He seemed pretty shook up, which I completely understand. And just between us girls, he is a very handsome young man, and he _did_ save my life."

Becky was very quickly becoming disgusted when all of a sudden the name clicked.

"Beckett!" she blurted out.

This stopped Sam in the middle of her sentence. "Um…yes?"

"_You're_ the one who's father was-." She cut herself off. "Oh I-I'm sorry, that was terribly insensitive."

"That's all right, I get that a lot. I'm used to it."

"I'm sorry for your loss. I read about it in the business trades after it happened. But…didn't you…um…"

"I blew that sonofbitch's brains out."

That was more blunt than Becky would have put it, but it was what she remembered from the story. Her mental picture of the woman morphed from the white haired old lady she had been envisioning to the trim white furred young woman she remembered from the photos last year. And the conversation was suddenly making _much_ more sense.

"I'm sorry, Miss Beckett-."

"Sam."

"I'm sorry Sam, I was just…momentarily confused."

A genuine laugh rose from the other end of the phone. "Picturing an old cougar instead of a young bear were you?"

Becky joined in the laughter. "Yes. And as I'm the person who's been as much a mother to Kit as anyone, I can say you were just about to get an earful."

"Oh, is his mother…?"

"Kit's an orphan. But I probably should be letting _him_ tell you that."

"Yes, I understand. I was just wor…um…concerned. Kit seems like a…very nice person. And even though I had every reason to hate that man, it still weighed on me that I took his life. Kit must be going through the same thing. I wanted to let him know that he could talk to me about it and I would understand. If he wanted to."

"Well, he'll appreciate that."

"He can reach me at the bank most times during the day, but let me give you my home number."

Becky took it down.

"Well I hope to meet you someday, Miss Cunningham."

"Rebecca. If I've got to call you Sam, you've got to call me Rebecca."

"Well, then I hope to meet you someday, _Rebecca_. I have great respect for your reputation. I know how very hard it is for a young woman to make it in the business world."

"Well, I'm not so young anymore, but thank you."

"You're quite welcome. Talk to you soon."

"I'll look forward to it."

"Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

She set the receiver down slowly, her concern growing as the distraction of the conversation faded. She _was_ mildly annoyed that they hadn't called her, but she allowed that a phone call to her was probably one of the furthest things from their mind when they took off, and once they got where they were going they certainly wouldn't have access to a telephone. And Sam described Baloo's injuries as minor at the worst. But Kit was a different story. Physically he was unharmed, but having gone through it herself, Sam was obviously concerned enough about what Kit was dealing with psychologically that she wanted to check up on him.

She smiled as that thought crossed her mind. There was a lot more to it than_ that_. According to the news stories, Sam had shot the man responsible for murdering her father with extreme prejudice, and rightfully so considering the gruesome nature of the crime. Obviously she came to terms with it without too much trouble. If she knew Kit any better, she would know it would be the same way with him. Once he got it straight in his head, he would be okay. But she had a sneaking suspicion that the reality of the situation was more likely that Sam was looking for an excuse to talk to him again. It took a modern, strong-minded woman to be able to step into her father's shoes the way Sam had. Such a woman was not likely to wait around for a man she was interested in to pursue _her_.

Which brought her back to Baloo. What was she to do about him? Follow Sam's example? Or settle back and wait for him to come to her? She had cried for nearly half-an-hour yesterday morning after he told her that he loved her on his way out the door. Tears of both joy and relief. But he had also made it clear that he still had some things to work out in his mind.

She decided she would give it a week. One week and she would go on the offensive again. Until then, there was nothing she could do but wait…and hope.

* * *

Kit was violently turned out of his bunk as the Duck's two big double row radial engines roared to life. The throbbing rumble of 3700 horses did absolutely nothing for his head, which felt like it was underfoot as those horses stampeded by.

"Rise and shine, Kit!" Baloo shouted from the cockpit.

He dragged himself forward towards the cockpit. Baloo was a much more experienced drinker than Kit was, and seemingly felt no effects from the previous night, despite outpacing him at a rate of better than three to one.

"What's going on, Baloo?" he asked as he fell into the right seat. "I thought we were gonna hang here for another day or two. We've got plenty of supplies."

"Nah, changed my mind. We're heading back today. Got unfinished business with a certain brown-eyed beauty." He pushed the throttles to their forward stops. The engines howled and the Duck surged forward.

Despite the fog surrounding his brain, it was obvious to Kit that Baloo's mood could only be described as jovial. That knowledge didn't help Kit's own mood any. He rubbed his eyes and held his head in his hand.

"You could've at least waited a _little_ while longer."

Baloo laughed grandly.

"Hangovers, Kit…they're the wrath of grapes!"

He yanked back hard on the yoke. The Duck leapt from the ocean and Baloo put it in a steep banking climb, making a full circle in the sky before adding the left turn that would take them out, then exited the open end of the horseshoe shaped cove on a knife edge before rolling through another 270 degrees of bank to put them right side up.

After eight years of flying with Baloo, Kit normally had a cast iron stomach, but it was far too sour to handle the high-g gyrations only moments after waking up. He quickly rolled down the window and coated the right flank of the noble Sea Duck with the contents of his stomach.

Baloo looked properly contrite, but that didn't prevent the evil eyed stare he got after Kit pulled his head back inside.

"Sorry 'bout that, Little Britches."

"Yeah, well, I'm hauling those britches back to my bunk. Wake me when we start our approach to Cape Suzette."

"Sure thing, Kit."

"And Baloo…"

"Yeah?"

"A little more subtlety this time."


	5. Chapter 5

_Warning: this chapter rated M for an adult situation._

* * *

Becky sat tapping her pencil on her desk calendar. She was getting absolutely nothing done. It had taken an effort to remain focused the last couple of days, but she had maintained some level of productivity. However, since finishing her conversation with Sam a half-hour ago, she had got absolutely nothing done. She needed someone to talk to, but there was literally no one. Molly was at school, Kit and Baloo were off at their "secret cove", her one close friend outside of work was at a business conference (that _she_ hadn't been invited to!), even Wildcat was out of town to catch a Sox game.

She sighed and threw the pencil down, then stood and, suddenly feeling claustrophobic, went outside to pace the dock. After only a few moments outside, a familiar rumble caught her attention. She looked up, hardly believing what she was seeing, as the unmistakable profile of the Sea Duck soared smoothly down out of the sky, splashing down with a lack of finesse that indicated Baloo was in the left seat, and coasting expertly, if somewhat recklessly up to the dock.

She held her breath as the engines ground to a halt, terrified of what this early return must mean. She knew from experience that only the foulest of moods could cut one of Baloo's vacations short. After what seemed an incredibly long time, the port aft door opened and Kit stepped out, looking more than a little green. She rushed up to him and took his shoulders.

"How are you, Kit?"

He seemed taken aback.

"What do you mean?"

"Miss Beckett from the bank called this morning to check on you. She told me about…what happened."

Several emotions ran across Kit's face. Surprise, shock, anger, fear, and finally pleasure, before the return of his neutral expression.

"Oh…I…I'm fine. I'll be fine."

"She said to call her if you wanted to talk about…it. I've got her number inside."

"Okay. Thanks, Miz Cunningham. I'll get it from you later. I need to…take care of a couple things, okay?"

"Okay."

"See you around."

He headed over to Wildcat's shop and mounted the sleek black motorbike (something he called a "pan head") that she absolutely hated. She was convinced he would one day end up a mangled mass of flesh if he continued to ride it. He plucked his helmet from the mirror, fastened it under his chin, and roared off.

She turned and saw Baloo standing on the dock next to his much loved airplane, one hand on his hip, the other supporting him as he leaned against the pontoon strut. He looked solemn. She approached him hesitantly, mouth working but no words coming out. She wished he would say something, then she wished he wouldn't. Finally, she stopped about three paces in front of him. His iron gaze bored into her eyes, and she felt ready to burst into tears.

Then, without warning, his mouth burst into an ear to ear grin. He closed the distance between them in one great stride, laughing, wrapped her in his arms, lifted her off the ground, and spun her around twice before meeting her lips with his. Insanely, she was so surprised that she started to resist him before giving in and opening her mouth to his, feeling the pebbly texture of his tongue on hers.

The kiss was intense, passionate, and she gave herself to it with all she had. When he finally broke it, he swept her up into his arms and marched towards the office.

"Baloo-."

"Shhhh," he whispered gently in her ear. "Not a word."

He shouldered open the door, carried her through and then kicked it shut. With the hand that was cradling her rear he engaged the deadbolt and flipped the sign hanging in the widow from "open" to closed".

He began kissing her again as he carried her up the stairs towards the bedroom he and Kit used to share, and as he did, she began to unbutton his shirt while trying to keep most of her attention on the kiss.

He lay her gently on the bed and began to undress her slowly, kissing her, touching her, caressing her in all the right places as he did and she responded to him like she never had with Aiden. She climbed from plateau to plateau as he made love to her entire body with lips and hands, finally climaxing as he caressed her back while gently kissing her neck and ears.

She cried out, unable to contain herself and Baloo used the few moments she was writhing in ecstasy to remove what little he still had on. Then he placed himself over her, supporting the majority of his weight with his arms. He kissed her gently on the neck, cheek, lips, then thrust himself within her and she cried out again.

He made love to her in a way she could never have dreamed of. Slowly, gently, passionately, furiously, changing positions and pace throughout. It was a thoroughly overwhelming sensory experience and it brought her to heights of pleasure she would never have imagined possible and she came several times. Though likely not more than fifteen or twenty minutes, it seemed like hours passed before Baloo finally thrust once, twice, three times and throbbed deeply within her, shuddering and letting a soft "oh" escape his lips before he collapsed beside her.

They shifted position slightly, Becky guiding them so that they could cuddle but remain coupled. They held each other gently, quietly communing as though afraid that speaking would break a spell that was cast upon them.

After a time, a profound realization came to Rebecca, and she was forced to speak, tears in her eyes.

"Baloo..." She said softly.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"The guilt...over Aiden."

She was so overwhelmed her voice caught and it was a brief moment before she could speak.

"It...it's gone!"

He kissed her tenderly on the forehead. "That's good to know."

They were quiet for a little while longer.

"So what now?" She asked quietly.

"Well, the way I see it, we already work together. We spend most of our free time together. We've raised two children together. We've done..."He ran his finger from her ear, along her jawline to her neck, down her chest between her breasts to her navel, then around her waist where he cupped the small of her back with his hand. "This. Together."

Becky giggled girlishly.

"The way I see it, we're only missing one thing. The simplest thing."

"And what would that be?"

"A piece of paper that says it's legal."

She drew in a quick, short breath.

"Is that what you think?"

"I might be oversimplifying a little bit."

She smiled up at him. "No...no, I don't think so."

He smiled back. "Good. So...when do you wanna...?"

"Well...not right now."

"No?"

"No. Right now," she rolled so that she was astride him. "There's something else I want to do."

He caressed her bare shoulders. "Well...can't argue with that."

They kissed.

* * *

_So there it is. Sorry it took so long to finish. Just a quick note: After writing ch 3, my original intent was for Sam to have been only a bit character. But I've decided that I like her. I think I'll bring her back in a future story._


End file.
